


Haunted

by fandramatics



Category: Dracula (TV 2020)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:48:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27148270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandramatics/pseuds/fandramatics
Summary: Their dance is way too familiar
Relationships: Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing
Comments: 5
Kudos: 90





	Haunted

His scent is familiar, it fills her chambers and makes her lick her lips. She closes her eyes for an instant when she hears the wooden door close and the lock turn; she provoked this and she knows it, but that doesn’t mean she’s admitting it.

She relaxes her thighs when she realizes she had been pressing them together. He won’t need any more encouragement than the amount that drove him to dare to come into her room. He didn’t even dare to knock this time. She’s certain the whole castle had the opportunity to see him striding to her bedroom like a hungry lion, that devious smile on his insufferable face.

She’d fight him, she might still do it just to spice things up, and because it is expected of her.

“Weren’t you taught to knock?” she questions, unmoving. Her back still facing him, she can hear his steps approaching. She hears the fumbling of fabric, how he’s wasting no time with games, he’s certain that - fight as they might - he’s getting what he came for.

She presses her tights together before she catches herself doing so and stops.

“Once,” he says, “as a young boy. My father reinforced what my mother had already said. But honestly, I only used that with my father and the king, no one else would dare to question me like that,” he pauses, and she can picture his smirk almost as if he is in front of her. “You, of course, being the exception.”

She turns, watches his figure now wearing only a thin white shirt, her gaze lingers at the end of his torso.

“All you had to do was ask,” he beams, and she meets his eyes.

“I didn’t ask anything of you,” she replies, he feigns hurt.

A Count on his own right, he moves closer, like a panther. He captures her chin between his thumb and forefinger and she doesn’t fight it. “One day, I’ll have you ask me for it.”

“I’ll die before I do it,” she narrows her eyes at him.

His grin widens, then he leans in, kisses her deeply. It takes a single beat of recognition before his teeth come into play and she realizes he’ll leave marks all over her body again.

Her back meets the bed hard and he’s almost tearing her sleepwear away from her. Her mouth waters, she wants to bite him, mark him, and wants him to touch her. Instead, she swallows down hard.

He raises hazel eyes to her clear ones and smiles. “You mustn’t worry,  _ Agatha _ , I’ll take good care of you”

Her name sounds strange on his lips, she recognizes it, but it feels out of place. Still, her mind doesn’t have the time to analyze it, for he’s disrobing and she must confess he’s a delicious sight. He catches her legs when she tries to press them together.

The Count crawls over her form, watches her eyes, then grins. “Shall we work on the third one?” Her gaze dares to lower, he has his hard prick in hand and he’s right where he should be. “Will you give me another heir, Agatha? We’re still young, I’m sure we could have a couple more brats together.” She feels it and her eyes shoot up, he presses their foreheads together. She might just start sweating. “Perhaps five? Five is a good number. Or should we have five more? Eight is a good number.”

She swallows. “We have two.”

He’s slipping, slowly sliding home, he makes sweet torture of it. “Hopefully,” he begins, watching her features, “by the time we’re done here, we’ll have the third on the way.”

He’s in, all in. She’s filled. She doesn’t know when she began to touch him, but her nails are digging in his back and he’s chuckling through heavy breaths.

If he asked, she’d say she hated him the moment she saw him. And he wouldn’t believe it. She might have been forced into marriage, but never once she hated him. He didn’t have a choice too, only peasants chose their spouses, and, even then, only the very lucky ones.

It wasn’t that she felt sorry for him, but he was interesting, he amused her. He was an heir and so was she, her family made good money and gained a lot of power by marrying her to a Count. She knew this would happen someday, she’d be sold off like meat. More than once, she thought of running off, becoming a nun, but when he didn’t question her choices of literature or seemed insulted by her questioning nature, Van Helsing considered this marriage might not be so insufferable after all.

Van Helsing… Was that her name?

He was interesting and held on to a good image, but she saw through the veneer. There was no surprise on the wedding night. Correction: there was a surprise and that was the way he touched her as if he had known her body his whole life; she ignored the implications of such knowledge and allowed him to do as he pleased. By the time they were finished, she was pregnant.

The birth of her first son seemed to settle the deal, she was a Countess now. It weighed more than their marriage, it seemed. When she delivered their second boy, she was already a very respected lady of her castle.

He had bastards, of course, but none had been conceived after their marriage. Women did go after him, but once they met her, their plans went out the window. He called her “wicked”, and that might be what women saw too, they might have tried, but one glance of hers and the will of a maid would be torn to pieces. She was as much of a mother to his bastards as she was to their legitimate children, yet there were no other women ruling her castle. The bastards might have their mothers, but there was no denying the authority of the Countess, and going against her wasn’t a smart move, neither was it allowed by the Count.

His nose brushed against the curve of her throat and she shivered. “Back to me,” he whispers low into her ear, his body moving against hers. His chest against hers, one of his hands wandering between them, and he pulled away only enough to gaze down at her body. He pauses his thrusting to crawl down her form, kissing her flesh until he’s almost at her breasts. He watches, then caresses; smiles when her body reacts to his touch. Finally, he meets her eyes, shifts a bit, gets comfortably deep inside her. “I missed you,” he says.

And he’s moving again.

Her thoughts are unclear, he’s ruining her focus, yet she wets her lips and manages to question: “Getting emotional?”

He sneers, then kisses her, hard. And Agatha ( _ Agatha? _ ) senses all of him against her, but she also senses herself. 

Her hips shouldn’t be like this. Her second child is no longer a toddler, but she had been preparing, this isn’t the first time she invited the Count back into her bed, she has been preparing for the third child for a while now.

His scent is all over her and his touch is everywhere. He’s breathing hard and it’s driving her insane because she knows the meaning of this, knows what comes next and she wants it bad, but she also wants answers.

_ Agatha? _

He groans near her ear, it almost sounds like a growl, it sounds feral. He’s going to come, she can tell, she knows it, knows his body that well by now.

_ Agatha Van Helsing? Who? _

The Countess is arching against him. He kisses her, hard, the way his lips feel makes her warm inside and she might just believe the tales of people marrying for love. She won’t admit it, but there’s more than duty, he’s got under her skin. She’ll fight him, she’ll act all she wants, but she knows, deep down she knows. He has fathered her children and respected her as his wife, he’ll listen and give her freedom, he doesn’t treat her as an inferior being. And she sees the way he watches her sometimes, it makes her shiver.

She feels it when he comes inside her and kisses her face and neck as if she’s a goddess to be worshipped. She senses it when he pays special attention to her when she’s with child.

He never said it, she never said it, but she feels it, and she knows he feels it too. And he even allows her to pretend she doesn’t.

The Count is nuzzling her neck, whispering something in Romanian she’d make a face to, had he not been laying over her, spent, acting as he always does after their couplings.

She’s considering more, considering another round, just to make sure they get it right, but he bites her neck. It’s playful, but her eyes open and she’s herself and not herself.

_ Agatha Van Helsing! _

“I’m dreaming.” The words should have echoed through the room, should have drawn his attention, but they come out as a whisper. She’s weak and the bed feels smaller than before. When he faces her she recognizes his face,  _ really  _ recognizes his face. “Count Dracula,” she whispers.

She closes her eyes and she pictures blood. Half of her is fighting to stay where they were, stay in the dream, the other half needs to wake up.  _ Where am I? Where’s Mina? _

She comes back as if she was drowning, she opens her eyes and there’s a cabin around her. Count Dracula has just entered the room, he smirks. “Must you always spoil the fun?” he questions approaching her, then sitting on the bed, “We have a lot to talk about, but we can’t do that with you waking up in the middle of our little trip. Come now, let’s rid you of these memories, I have got a game for us to play.”

Her lips part, she tries to form words, but her mind is still slow. His teeth come down on her throat, and she feels no pain, he never allows it, yet there’s a part of her whimpering for the dream.

She hears a voice in the back of her mind,  _ her  _ voice. She doesn’t want to think about how it didn’t feel like a dream, she doesn’t want to think about what it could actually be, how it feels familiar. She doesn’t want to know what this could mean. There are no past lives, she isn’t a Countess, she’s not his wife, and he’s a vampire.

Agatha Van Helsing slips into unconsciousness, forgets everything. When she wakes up, she’s smiling and the Count is coming downstairs, telling her about stories, and she indulges him. 


End file.
